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IC: Abdul's first

I'm an Attention Whore

spaz
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Chris J. Canatsey
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IC: Abdul's first

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spaz
The air was cool and damp, he could practically taste the snark and falsely sweet words in his tongue. His eyes scanned the room nervously, there were far too many entrances into this ballroom and far to many side areas for Cainites to escape and carry on with foul deeds. The stench of the Warlocks made his nose twitch when he chose to breath, and his ridgedly clenched muscles made it clear to all that walked by; Abdul Aziz ibn Christian was an Assamite ready to pounce.

"Abdul, are you well?" The familiar veiled Arabic voice of Zaraya al-Kitab rang in his ears.

"I...no, honestly not sister. This social function is not for me, not what I am trained for or prepared for. I am a rafiq amongst the Children, yet I do not know how to fight this battle.." Abdul's gaze drifts to the small cluster of Toreador chattering away, the occasional laugh puncturing the conversation.

The smile clearly in her eyes, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. "This is the life of the Camarilla, you will adjust."

He sighs, but is visibly calmed by her comforting gesture. His eyes scan around the room and catches the sight of his fellow Children of Haqim circling the room. The mic on the front podium crackles to life and Abdul shifts his gaze. He steps forward to draw out the chair for his Elder Prince, sliding the obsidian Cainite to the table. At the mention of Archon Madwell's departure to handle a security issue, Abdul raises an eyebrow and turns of Zaraya. She matches his gaze and they share a singular thought.

It was going to be one of those nights.

As if acting on one thought, both of the Assamites move into action. Abdul takes a defensive posture, hands open a his sides next to the small hidden daggers at his hips. Zaraya quickly moves about the ballroom, gathering the scattered Children of Haqim to one circle around Abdul to quickly conference. Whispered words are shared as they each reveal a piece of information, and a plan of action is quickly planned. Abdul and Zaraya remain to guard the Elder, and the others quickly fan out around the room creating a web of protection in case of any danger.

His sharp eyes alerting him to the movement of a Clanmate, Abdul turns his head and whispers harshly in Arabic. "Report."

"The Malkavians have gathered in the side chamber, they are all babbling in foreign tongues but seem to be able to communicate. They have amassed a large number of papers, each has some strange scribbles or symbols. They seem to be assembling them like a puzzle, but only that Clan seems to be able to understand a thing." The fellow Assamite quickly speaks, his eyes on Abdul.

There are several moments of silence between the two, as they seem to gaze in each others face. Abdul frowns a touch before understanding the look on his Clanmates face. It was the same one he took when speaking with either Zaraya or Alim at home, the one he has given and continues to give his Sire whenever they speak. This Assamite before him was awaiting orders from a superior.

"Find me another Brother, after that do your best to spy on the Madmen. We must learn what they are doing, and if it relates to this woman in red leather. I will inform the Elder." Abdul swallows hard, his throat having gone dry. The other Assamite bows before heading off to do as directed, and it's all Abdul can do to keep an outward composure. I have never given an order to a Clanmate before. The thought swirls in his mind as he bends low to whisper in the Elder's ear before returning to his post.

Zaraya seems to have a slight smile on her face as she watches Abdul over the next several minutes. Several Assamites come back and forth between them both, relaying information to Abdul and Zaraya and receiving more orders from the duo. At times even the Sheriff steps forward to listen to his words, a whispered command sends her off on another errand. His mind still wrestles with this new sensation of authority when he turns to face the newest arrival.

Thankful that his darkened skin prevents anyone from seeing he color drain out of it, Abdul blinks rapidly as the eldest rafiq at the gathering steps forward. This black warrior has a slight frown on his face, arms crossed and a posture that radiates displeasure at some current event. Not thinking and just reacting, Abdul speaks. "Report."

"There are currently only two women matching the description of the individual we are searching for. I am unsure of their names and vital information, bu can locate all of that with relative ease." The elder rafiq speaks plainly, no hint of anger in his voice.

"Excellent. Locate their names, clans, Camarilla positions and any details that the Elder might consider important then report." Abdul wastes no words in emotion, simply dictating his intent.

The elder rafiq nods his head and spins on a heel to do as instructed, and Abdul releases a held breath in relief. Who am I to give such orders, who am I to command our brothers so? The thoughts trouble him as he steps up quickly to speak with his Elder. He relays all the current information gathered, using Arabic only to minimalize any preventive leaks to the Nosferatu. The Elder, his advanced age giving him the appearance of a shining obsidian statue, remains still for what seems like years while he processes.

"Good work. Keep me informed."

That simple line causes Abdul's heart to race, his eyes shining in pride. He steps back, straightening his spine and tensing his body in preparation. Not only had he done the job suddenly thrust upon him, but he had done it with enough satisfaction to receive such praise from his Elder. A small smile creeps onto his face, causing a nearby Tremere neonate to step back nervously.

I would walk through fire for my Elder.

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